


Thriving Without You

by kittysorceress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittysorceress/pseuds/kittysorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Halloween 1981, Remus Lupin finds himself alone. This is the story of how the world did not end that day and Remus learned to live with his Black Dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, my writing style has suffered overexposure to the Ovidian practice of the tricolon and to the distinctly Mallorian style of parataxis - the result of a stimulating Classical education. My complusive need to switch POV is unexplainable. This was my first full-length fanfiction, written in 2010.

_Life is full of jokes, but hardly any of them are amusing._

 _The bite was cruel, isolation at a young age made me a poorly social creature. My intelligence became a curse in disguise, my sexuality a burden. Falling in love made me frightened, the thought of losing love made me sick. And friendship, it was the greatest prank of them all._

 _I shouldn't be surprised that my three of my closest friends are... or that the man I... or that... I..._

 _There's a Ministry form in front of me, I'm sitting on an unforgiving wooden chair and the desk is uneven on its spindly legs and I feel like there should be something more wrong about this. There should be looming officials and dark colours and the heating should be too hot, or too cold. The room is not cheerful, but there is nothing foreboding about the imitation Van Gogh Sunflowers on the wall to my left._

 _My hand doesn't even shake as I tick the boxes._ Requesting financial assistance. Requesting housing allocation. Unemployed. Single.

 _Unloved._

 _12 days and 7 hours ago, he took his coat from the hook by the door on his way to see James and Lily. There was nothing in his expression, no indication... I didn't see him again. I wonder if I had, whether I would also be..._

 _Reason for change in circumstances:_ Residence owned by former housemate, a convicted murderer, and is now property of the Ministry, except in the unlikely event of the owner's release. The owner was a friend and I payed no rent. My small income was from doing household jobs for the Alice and Frank Longbottom (now permanently residing in St Mungo's) and Lily and James Potter (deceased).

 _There, not so hard. Cold and clinical._

 _Dumbledore's comforting hand on my shoulder last week had tried to reassure me that it's just shock. That it will pass. That losing someone we love in that way is difficult. Somewhere in the void of my present mind, a thought drifts that he wasn't talking about James or Lily or Peter. That he was talking about the murderer. That thought comes and goes before I can even make the effort to comprehend._

 _I stand up and go to where a secretarial witch is sitting behind a desk that looks even more uneven than the one I was sat at. Oh, yes, look there: a couple of books are propping its right side up. Is that a copy of Elementary Charms? By the look of the girl at the desk, the book can't have been out of use long. I must have seen her at school, surely. My mind draws a blank as I hand her the small stack of parchment I had completed. She glances over it quickly with a trained eye._

"Thank you, Mr Lupin. We'll owl you sometime this afternoon with the results of your application. Tomorrow morning at the latest, if we get busy," _she gave me a look, and paired with the carefully veiled sarcasm, it suggested that busy was an unlikely state for the Department of Wizarding Welfare and Work._

 _I had hoped that it wouldn't need to come to this. I mean, I had hoped I wouldn't ever need to ask for a handout. I had never imagined that it would happen like this. I had never thought that James and Lily would really ... die. That was what we were for, friends and family and the Order. Friends betrayed, family moved away, stayed away, passed away, the Order failed._

 _As I wait for the lift as it makes it way from the lower floors, I can hear voices moving closer from within the shaft as the arrow points closer to my own level. No, just one voice. A woman and a voice that seems oddly familiar at that._

" – the very last straw. I'm not sending you to another Muggle school again, so you can get that idea out of your mind. That's the fourth time we've visited Muggle-Worthy Excuses this year. And you can forget about flying in the field on your Comet Junior for at least a month. Don't you give me that look, Miss Nymphadora!"

 _I smile to myself. How many parents name their child Nymphadora? The voice must belong to Andromeda Tonks, Sirius' favourite cousin. The pleasure I felt at the familiarity disappears as quickly as it came. I'm not ready to talk to anyone and, Merlin, she'll want to_ talk _._

 _My whole chest constricts as I struggle to start breathing again. I want to run, to hide, to be anywhere but here. My legs are as stiff as my chest and I find myself stuck to the floor where I stand._

 _The lift doors are opening..._

And that was how he ended up in a warm parlour, with a large roast and all the trimmings in front of him, with a good glass of merlot in his hand and a cat wrapping itself around his feet as Andromeda and Ted Tonks relayed all of their troubles with their young daughter. Apart from an initial "How are you holding up?" in the lift, which Remus was fairly sure had nearly reduced him to tears, the conversation had been without a mention of anything he didn't want to discuss.

Instead, a quick hello was followed by an introduction to a small child he had only read and heard of, then a lunch invitation and a conversation so rooted in domestics that it was as if the war hadn't even happened. Remus couldn't help but feel comfortable, although thoughts niggled at the back of his mind.

It wasn't meant to work like this – there was supposed to be tears and anger and not the sound of eight-year-old Nymphadora singing a song about her mashed potato castle. But he didn't mind.

Wondering if Ted had slipped something into the wine, Remus lamented that he never had the taste for these things. What was the Calming Draught? A bitter citrus or a sweet vanilla? He couldn't quite bring himself to care though. This was nice, this was friendly, this was the first real meal he'd had in over a week.

Not only this, but the Tonks family genuinely seemed to enjoy having him there, and it was nice to feel like somebody – anybody – wanted to talk to him. Even about children problems.

"So, what we're saying Remus, is that we just don't know what to do now. We don't want to move again and since the last incident, I'm fairly sure that no Muggle school in a hundred-mile radius will take her!" Andromeda bit her lip nervously.

"Oh, what a pity!" piped up Nymphadora with her childish sarcasm as she surrounded her potato castle with a gravy moat, drowning the invading green beans.

"Don't play with your dinner, sweetie," Ted removed the gravy boat from her reach and returned his gaze to his wife and guest. Andromeda sighed, her dark brown curls falling into her eyes a little.

"The Weasleys have their hands full with the new baby, and I know Molly had offered, but it's just more on her plate to tire her. Everyone else we know is still in hiding or won't talk to us since  _Walburga_ " – she pulled a face – "decided we were no longer family. I still get letters from Cissy sometimes, but I doubt her husband knows that we talk, and she's getting more distant."

Ted cut in, "Besides, it's not like her Draco is our Dora's age."

"Draco is a titchy little baby. And he smells," Nymphadora remarked matter-of-factly as she shovelled a mess of potato, beef, gravy and beans into her mouth.

"Sweetie, you met him once," said Ted in his soft voice as he placed a serviette beside her which she eagerly wiped her mouth upon.

"He's about Harry's age, you see." As soon as she'd said it, Andromeda looked at Remus worriedly and with good reason. He had gone white, whiter than he was already if that were possible, and his eyes glazed over a bit as he sipped his wine. He didn't notice Andromeda and Ted exchange a significant look over the bread rolls.

The moment was brief though and quickly interrupted by a loud belch from Nymphadora.

And Remus laughed.

Andromeda, shooting daggers at her dear daughter, breathed an inward sigh of relief while Nymphadora offered a small smile and a quiet "'Scuse me", which made Remus laugh even more as he reached over and flicked her pony tail, which had changed their colour from black to auburn to blonde to brown during the course of the meal.

"Dromeda, Ted, you've got a keeper here. She's going to be a real heartbreaker one day!" Remus barely got his words out through his laughter while Nymphadora positively beamed. "She's such a little angel! Who wouldn't want to teach her?"

The little girl poked her tongue out and the young man poked his back at her, grinning taking another sip of wine as she crossed her arms and pouted. There was a brief moment of silence.

"Why don't  _you_  teach her?" said Ted unexpectedly and Remus choked.

"What?"

"How about it?" Ted looked from his wife to Remus, "You're an intelligent young man, and you're in need of a job. Without being cruel, your  _furry little problem_  makes you virtually unemployable..."

"How did you know?" the security that Remus had felt not long before was starting to disappear. This was  _not_  comfortable at all.

"Somebody told me a long time ago," Andromeda placed her hand on Remus' and he  _heard_  the name that she had obscured in her statement.  _Sirius told me_  is what she had meant. His heart started to constrict again.

"But you're a good kid and we don't think it should be held against you," Ted explained, "Dumbledore certainly didn't either. Dora isn't exactly the most normal of children." She obliged with a display as she changed her nose from the little button she had sported for the afternoon into a large aquiline and back again.

"I..."

Andromeda stood up and began to clear the dishes from the table. "You don't have to say anything yet, Remus. It's just a thought. Come on Nymphadora, you can help me with desert."

And Remus did think. He thought about how nice it might be to have a job, to have even a little income. He thought about what it might be like to have people around him who appreciated him and liked him despite the things that generally made most run in the opposite direction. But teaching? Even with all of the joking about it back at Hogwarts, he had never seriously considered the gig.

A bowl of trifle and a cup of tea later, Remus was watching Nymphadora in the backyard running about with a washing basket over her head and crying "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" while the adults basked in the late afternoon autumn sun. Ted was snoring softly in his chair.

"I'll do it."

Andromeda was surprised at the conviction in his voice.

"Are you sure, Remus?" she said warily, "I don't want you to feel that we pushed you into anything."

"No, no," he looked over at the miniature Dalek terrorising the cat, "I think I want to do this. But I think I've got a few things to sort first," he looked back at Andromeda. "I'm still waiting to hear from the ministry. I need to find a flat, I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron since..." he paused, "and I need to organize my full moon accommodation and I need to collect my belongings from the Aurors who are checking them for evidence. And the wills are being read next week, but I'm sure the ministry will delay them longer." He sighed the sigh of a man of forty, not of twenty-one.

"Would you like to stay a few days while you find your feet again? I can make up the spare room for you." Andromeda looked upon him with motherly concern as Nymphadora ran up, washing basket abandoned, and jumped into her mother's lap, occasioning a groan.

Remus smiled, "You know, I think I might take you up on that."

The spare room hadn't taken long to make the transition to being "Remus' Room". In a matter of weeks, it was as if Remus had always been part of the family. And while things weren't perfect for him, while he still had bad dreams and moments when he wanted to disappear through the floor and never be seen again, and while the ministry didn't want to help him outside of the full moon and refused him any income support, life was settling.

A routine had formed itself around the family and their plus-one. Each morning, Ted put on the kettle and made the tea, then woke Andromeda, who would put on her dressing gown and start preparing breakfast. Ted left early for the Ministry, Andromeda brought Remus his potions to his room and Remus went back to sleep, to shortly wake again with the bitter taste of the concoction in his mouth and the noise of Dora making a raucous in the parlour. While Remus read the Prophet, Andromeda would don her travelling robe and her hat, kiss her daughter on cheek and instruct the two of them to be good while she was gone, at which point she'd disapperate to the Boutique. Remus would drink his tea slowly while Dora told him about the wild dreams she had had during the night which were maybe not entirely but maybe just a little made up but oh! Remus! It was so  _real_!

They'd clear away the dishes and pull out the notebooks. Remus would read while Dora did her sums, then Dora would read while Remus corrected them. There'd be history and music and whatever Dora was fascinated by this week. They'd go for a walk into town when the sun was shining and when it was raining Remus would magic the rain to be repelled from them and they'd go anyway. Lunch was always simple and stories always followed, Dora aiding the narration by creating faces for each of the characters and switching to each as Remus did the funny voices, sometimes she'd draw what he was telling. Ted would get home first, Andromeda next and dinner would be made and Dora would go to bed and the adults would stay up a little longer, talking over the day's news and maybe watching a little of the Muggle television that Ted's family had given as a Christmas present the year before last, if they could get reception. Remus would take his other potion and go to bed. Sometimes he'd wish that James and Lily and Peter were still alive. Sometimes he'd cry a little, but the tears dried up as the months went on.

The thing that annoyed him the most, that necessitated the potions and that kept eating his heart up from the inside out, was every time something wonderful, something exciting or something new happened. Because all he wanted to do was to tell Sirius about it. But he'd take his potion and his heart wouldn't hurt anymore and he didn't even mind the blanks it created in his mind, because nothingness seemed easier to deal with.

Dora had surprised him though. With wisdom beyond her years, she had learned quickly that some days she needed to be a bit quieter. Some days Remus would need to sleep because of his illness, some days he'd need to sleep because of his black dog. His black dog, yes. But one dog had gone and the other would too.

But not all days were bad and after a year most days were good. When Dora had turned nine, she outgrew the need to change her appearance and get lost in Diagon Alley to frighten Remus and her parents. She had also gained an obsession with mythology and most of the time her hair was long, straight and blonde like her favourite Holyhead Harpy player. For months, this mane of blond could be seen buried in a history book or Quidditch magazine as its owner chattered on to her tutor about the origin of various family member's names or the terrible fuss over a move that so-and-so had pulled in the Cannons-Tornado's match at the weekend.

Remus, inspired by Dora's sudden interest in mythology, had tried and failed to catch her attention with the Latin language. All he achieved was to get her to recite "amo-amas-amat-amamus-amatis-amant" without quite understanding why and without breath. He settled instead for selecting sections of Ovid to recount to her.

"Let's have a nymph story today," Dora said as she spread jam on her bread at lunch, managing to get more jam on her shirtsleeve and the tablecloth than on the sandwich.

Remus grinned, "A nymph story for Nymphadora..." "Don't call me that!" "...For Dora, then."

He told her of Echo, the talkative nymph who had angered Juno, the queen of the gods, and been punished by the loss of her voice – the only power of speech she had left was the ability to repeat what others had said. He told her that Echo had once seen a beautiful young man in the forest and that she fell in love as soon as she had seen him. He told her how the man had been so beautiful, but that he rejected anyone who showed interest in him. He told her how the man had got lost in the forest and called out to his friends, and how Echo had waited for words that she could send back to him and tell him of her love – "Is anyone there?" said he and she replied "There!" and he said "Let's meet here together!" and she said "Here together!" – she ran from her hiding place and threw her arms around his neck, and he pushed her away and told her "I would die before I love you!" and she says back "I love you", running back to cave – and Echo wastes away with the love that didn't even die by rejection, until she was only a voice.

Dora looked at Remus, pencil still poised in her hand over a sketch book page covered in tall trees and a fleeing girl in a billowing chiton. "That's really sad."

"I didn't say that it would be a nice nymph story. But it's a beautiful tragedy."

"How?" replied Dora, frustrated. "She was rejected, she can't get over him and she dies. It's stupid, actually. What happened to him?"

"Ah, that's where the tragedy comes in."

He told her of how the young man once wearied from hunting, found an untouched spring with silvery water in a clearing and had lay down in front of it. He told her of how the man saw a beautiful boy in the water and fell in love... but when he realised that his own reflection, he felt tricked and betrayed and also could not gain the one he loved. So he melted away, burned little by little by the fire in his heart like a candle flame melts wax. And Echo sounded back his tears and his sorrow and when he cried out "Oh! The boy I loved in vain!" she called it out too. And when he bid the world farewell, she did the same to him.

Dora had now drawn a young man and a pool of water on a new page, a ghostly figure in a tree looking down and the words "Farewell" traced lightly in the sky.

"That's marvellous." Remus picked up the picture. "You have such a talent."

Dora beamed in her fashion and Remus looked over the pencil lines carefully. "Who did you model your Narcissus on?" He frowned.

"I kind of thought of one of the young men in Mummy's photo album, I think it was one of the cousins. He's very pretty, isn't he?"

Remus felt his face go into that closed expression he hated so much, as he dropped the page back to the table. "How about you colour that one in? It's brilliant. Really." He felt his voice break a little. "I think I need a cup of tea."

And with that wisdom Dora had, she erased the face and redrew another. She didn't mention that young man again.

When Dora reached ten years old, she used to spend Wednesdays with the Weasleys while Remus when to the hospital to participate in The Study. She liked the Weasleys, especially Bill and especially, especially Charlie who was  _just her age_  and called her  _Tonks_  and wanted to play  _Quidditch_. The Study was inconclusive, but Remus was having even fewer dog days. They happened mostly with the moon days now.

And as her eleventh birthday approached, Dora began to wonder what would happen when she went to Hogwarts. Whenever she asked her parents, they told her to ask Remus. And Remus would say "Oh, nothing's set yet" and she just  _knew_  that he was planning something. But whatever that something was, she was never expecting that he would leave the little cottage with the steep staircase and the warm parlour and the fields outside and on the edge of the little Muggle town she loved so much.

It was now midsummer, three weeks after her birthday and three weeks until she was off to Hogwarts. Remus had conjured a small swimming pool under the big blossom tree next to the house and they were both sitting in the cool water.

"Will I make friends at school, Remus? I mean real friends? Other than Charlie, I mean."

"Probably," he replied lightly, "Most students do. I did. The war changed that."

"I'm very sorry for you, Remus," her voice had taken on a soft seriousness. "Is that why you're going away, to make some new friends?" She splashed a little with her outstretched feet.

"Maybe, a little bit. I need to get away from England for a while."

"Maybe the black dog won't be able to follow you if you go far enough?"

Remus nodded silently.

"I hope you make some good friends."

"I hope you do too."

"And do come back." Dora looked at him resolutely. "You're not allowed to not come back."

"Don't worry – you'll be at school you won't even notice I'm gone. I'll send you owls and you'll just wish your uncool tutor would leave you alone." He smiled.

"Never."

There was a long moment of silence punctuated by only the sound of Dora's feet splashing in the foot depth of water.

"I'm going to miss you, Remus."

"I'll miss you too, Nymphadora."

And by Monday, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_If I had known that it would be as simple as getting away from England and meeting someone, I would have done this the day you walked out the door._

 _Thing is, whenever I say it that way, people just assume that we were together. But we weren't, and that's what made it so much harder in the years past. It was never resolved was it? You knew that I was keen on you at school and we talked through it then. You laughed it off and told me that I wasn't your type, being male and all, and even though I was devastated in my sixteen-year-old way at the time, I knew that our friendship was worth more. So I worked at it, and you worked at it, and we didn't talk about that Hogsmeade trip again._

 _I find myself wondering too often if that was the problem between us, your Janus act aside, that not only did we not talk about that Hogsmeade trip but that it became the biggest hippogriff in the room and that we skirted around it for years. And I'll admit it now, I pined a little, even when I had you for all my own and we were living in the wretched little flat above that bakery. But I never complained when you brought Muggle girls from the club around, and you never raised an eyebrow when I brought men back. But the tension never went._

 _And that's what confuses me, now when I look back with clearer and more scrutinising eyes. Why did you choose to live with me if it was going to be an Issue with a capital "I"? The only answer I have been able to satisfy myself with, and not a pleasant one at that, was that it added to your trustworthiness as a member of the Order. I was your cover-story, wasn't I?_

 _My chest doesn't ache when I think of you, my stomach doesn't flutter with nerves, my arms don't need you to complete them, my head will be better off without you._

 _I miss you though. I didn't, not for years, but I do now. When I started to travel, I saw so many wonders – big things and the little ones too – that I longed to share with you. I wrote a letter to little Nymphadora once a week, adding in a gift when I could afford it. She must be nearly seventeen now, but she's still a child. I can't share my wonder with her as I could a true friend – maybe I will one day. I realised all this not as a learned to become a walking cliché in Paris, nor travelling the country roads of Spain._

 _The moment I started to miss you was the day I stumbled across your family's holiday home in Venice. It looked just like the pictures you sent me and I swear that I hadn't gone looking for it! I was making my way along a laneway, kicking at the cobblestones and subsequently tripping little over my own feet. As I picked myself up and cursed myself for the Tonks clumsiness being contagious, I looked up and saw the crest over the door. My heart skipped a beat ran as fast as I could away from the place. I was ashamed and I was angry at myself for... I didn't even know what. That was when I knew._

 _It was better after that. I felt that I had the better of the sadness' hold over me and when I saw things that I wanted to show to you, I just thought "It's a pity that he's a murdering bastard". Perhaps not a healthy frame of mind, but it worked. I'm a cold wolf at heart, you know that._

 _The full moon has been difficult while I've travelled, but I've never been once tempted to floo back to London and return to that containment centre. Four years' moons I had to spend there. Do you know what it's like? I can't imagine that it's an improvement on Azkaban, honestly – tiny cells with magically reinforced concrete walls and floor, iron bars on the doors and a few holier-than-thou Ministry Officials who use the time to lecture us on our poor life choices that led us to contract Lycanthropy. It is utter bullshit, if you pardon my language, because half of the lot I met in the centre were like me, turned when they were small by Greyback and his followers. We all tended to drift in and out, I was one of the few regulars, and I only attended because there was no convenient Shrieking Shack in your cousin's backyard. I tried our Shack once, but the memories hurt more in the morning than the gashes on my back did._

 _In a way, that brings me to why I'm writing this letter to you. And honestly, I will probably burn this as soon as I have written it, so even if you ever left Azkaban, you'd never see it anyway._

 _I'd been travelling for four years when I reached Istanbul, drawn by the lure of the busy and ancient city, the promise of spell-book stores and the rumour of a thriving community of people like me – werewolves and half-breeds and all sorts who desire to live normal lives as far as possible. I had more money than I had ever had in my life after a particularly profitable summer sailing the Aegean with a cruise company in need of general staff and who assumed I got into brawls on my monthly leave (not an unusual situation in the cases of some of my co-workers). Having arrived fresh off the boat, I wasted little time in establishing myself in a grand boutique hotel in Beyoğlu and spent a couple of weeks playing Agatha Christie, sitting in my room and attempting to write something wonderful whilst sampling the wafting aromas of the cafes in the streets._

 _It didn't take me long to track down the people I was searching for. The community was, sadly, not as close-knit as I had been led to believe, though I made a few useful contacts that were able to point me in the direction of apothecaries and healers suited to my condition. Armed with an address and the assurances that not only could the men speak English, they hailed from the motherland._

 _I was surprised to find the place in a particularly sunny end of town, a tall shop-front that reminded me a little of Muggle London and looked at the same time nothing like I had ever seen before. I got the distinct feeling that I was the only person on the street who could see it – much like the Leaky Cauldron from the street, you know? When I pushed the door open, I was even more surprised to be greeted by Damocles Belby. Do you remember him? He was the Ravenclaw who sat with Peter in potions, back in second year, when we were too scared to. Hair down to his knees, now!_

 _He and his eldest brother Actaeon had moved to Istanbul a couple of years earlier and I was shocked to discover that it was for a similar reason to my own. They had started research into a_ cure. _At first I wondered... the compassion they felt for my kind was so unusual – the only others I had known to share their views had been my Marauders. Did you know that Damocles had a sister? She was turned the summer I was, but she wasn't found as quickly as I was and she bled out. Their family lived in denial for so long – their brother Gaius, Julia's twin sister, still acts as if she never existed. Actaeon and Damocles were embarrassed by their parent's attitude and, feeling helpless to do anything for Gaius, they went out in search for something to prevent, if not alleviate the suffering of the Lycanthrope. So this is how I met the two of them, in their little apothecary, selling potions and herbs to sustain themselves while working on their research._

 _And really, I'm getting to the point of my story, if only you'd hold out a little longer. There was something different about Actaeon, you see. I know I never troubled you with my boys, but you need to understand, he was gorgeous. It wasn't his looks – in fact, on the surface he appeared kind of plain – but he had the most amazing mind. I started spending a lot of time in the apothecary, helping with him with the customers while Damocles was elbow-deep in pond scum and Merlin-knows-what. I'd stay after they'd closed up shop and he and I would stay sitting there behind the counter and talking for hours on end. Sometimes I'd stay for dinner, making my way up the spiral staircase in the back of the shop to their home on the second and third floors._

 _It was Damocles who first suggested that I stay longer than dinner, that the library could easily fit a bed. I have to admit that by this point, the cost of the hotel was starting to severely dent my savings, and I had no desire to leave the city, so I said yes. I won't bother you with all the gory details, but suffice to say that the library never saw a bed grace its threshold. Perhaps I rushed into this thing with Actaeon. If I did, I don't really care, mostly because he adores me._

 _If I have a bad dream, I wake up now with a warm body holding me close and telling me that it will be fine. He'll stay up with me until dawn while I tell him my theories on how the world should work. He bears my cooking and sometimes even pretends to enjoy it. For the first time in years, I woke up from the full moon to someone tending my wounds and wrapping me in a warm blanket. He has for thirteen moons now and he still kisses me goodnight._

 _What I felt for you back in school and during the dying years of the war was every bit as intense as this is. But this is bringing me joy and reciprocity, not denial and confusion and betrayal. I love Actaeon and I feel marvelous._

 _With almost two years in the once place after twice as many years travelling I have the itch to move again. Damocles thinks that he is close to a breakthrough and wants to return to Britain to publish his findings, so we're packing up shop. Actaeon and I will finish the world tour that I had once set out to make before we return home ourselves. I've already got the gold clinking in my pockets for the deposit on a little cottage somewhere and the idea of settling down with someone I love at the end of it all is almost as exciting as this trip._

 _True to my word, I can't quite comprehend now why I felt that you needed to know this. So, once the boxes and the bags are packed, this is going onto the bonfire with the rest of the bits and pieces we want to leave behind in Turkey. This is where I am leaving my Black dog, my Sirius._

CRACK.

"Hey! Mum! They're here! They just apparated on the hill! Mum!"

There was a nearer, more painful sounding crack as a body fell down the flight of stairs and into the hatstand across from the landing.

"It's okay... I'll be fi- oh, I'm bleeding. Ow. Mum..."

"You're a witch. You're of age. Fix it up yourself."

"Oh. And it's on my  _clothes_. Scorify! That didn't work either! Ugh!"

The thud of combat boots made their way back up the stairs and Andromeda Tonks waved her wand with years of post-Nymphadora-lypse practice as she opened the door to the guests walking up the path. A frustrated scream came from upstairs.

"I see that things haven't changed since I left," commented Remus and he embraced Andromeda. "Is she really eighteen now, or is a ruse?"

"The most convincing!" Andromeda winked as she pulled back. "And Actaeon, I haven't seen you since school!"

Actaeon may have looked a little uncomfortable in this reunion situation, but he smiled widely enough to hide it well as he shook her hand. "It has been an age."

"Now, look at the two of you." Andromeda bit her lip and stepped back, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Remus felt himself going a little red and Actaeon held his hand tighter.

"Remus!" Ted had come forth from the garden, wiping off hands grubby with dirt and what looked like motor oil onto an apron tied around a growing gut. "You stranger, step out of the heat. It's much nicer inside."

"Looks like Andromeda's been feeding you too well, my friend." Remus couldn't wipe the nervous and happy grin from his face. "And I heard Nymphadora upstairs, didn't I?"

A voice wafted from the rafters above.

"I'm coming Remus! I've just got to change my skirt!" Remus knew better than to be puzzled, but Andromeda simply explained that there had been a stairs incident. And sure enough, here came the casualty, bounding once again stairs, this time noticeably softer without heavy boots.

"Wotcher, Remus!" He didn't even have a moment to look before he was engulfed by a tall girl he couldn't have recognised even if she had given him a moment to glance at her face. He spat bubblegum pink curls out of his lips. There was an awful lot of hair. "I  _missed_  you."

"Let me  _breathe_ , Dora." The girl stepped back and Remus got a good look at her – at his own height now, a young lady stood where he had left a child. She was slender and the features of her face suggested that this was a near natural state for her – except the hair – yes, her mother's nose, her father's eyes, that cheeky smile she'd had since he had met her. And there she was, stood barefoot and in a long, summery Muggle dress, still playful as ever.

"Who's this? Is this  _Actaeon_?" She sprang on the balls of her feet and shook his hand. "It was nice of you to come with Remus to lunch. I'm sure he could have found the place on his own."

"Dora, be kind." Remus gave her a  _look_ , but she ignored him. She always ignored those looks.

"It's not like you need a travel buddy now, though."

"Why didn't you tell me!" A spray of bubbles and water left the sink and covered Remus' shirt front, soaking him to the skin a clean line. With steadfast school-teacher-li-ness he continued to wash the lunch dishes.

"I thought I had made it clear enough in my letters. That I had made a friend, that I was living with him, that we were going to travel together..." Remus passed her a dripping bowl and started on another.

Nymphadora flicked the tea towel in Remus' general direction and got to work on her drying duties. "But I didn't know that he was  _that_  sort of friend. How was I supposed to guess? I didn't even know that you were, you know..." She made a limp sort of wrist movement.

"Queer as a silver Galleon?" He narrowed his eyes a little.

"Yeah. Why didn't I know  _that_." She looked down, twisted the tea towel for a moment and looked back at him. "He seems nice, though. I'm happy that you've found someone."

Remus gave her a half-hug, sodden clothes and soapy cutlery in the opposite hand. "That means a lot to me, Nymphadora. Thanks."

They continued in silence, in a routine that still fell into place after 7 years' distance. The silence was broken only by the chink of china and the rumble of Actaeon's laughter from the sitting room as he and Andromeda reminisced on their own time at Hogwarts.

"Doesn't it bother you that he's the same age as my mum?" said Nymphadora suddenly.

"Sorry?" Remus held back a laugh.

"I mean..."

"Dora, yes, he's a few years older than me, but hardly ancient. Remember, I was out of high school when you were barely out of nappies."

"That wasn't what I meant," she mumbled under her breath.

"You might be of age, Dora, but you're not as old as all that yet." Remus chuckled and mussed her pink curls like he used to do. She looked mortally offended.

"Mean."

 _Remus' voice greeted me as soon as I apparated over the threshold of his townhouse for our weekly tea and catch-up._

"I hear you've got a girlfriend now, Tonks."

 _I almost dropped the dish of scones Mum had sent me with, but a steady hand was there to catch the plate as I toppled to the ground. Another hand, owned by the same scratchy-wool-jumper-wearing man, pulled me to my feet again._

"Nice, Remus. Way to scare a girl. Lucky I didn't hex you!"  _I waved my finger threateningly and stumbled a little_.

"Oh, I'm sure. So, what's all this then?"  _He took the plate of scones off into the kitchen as I removed my cloak and placed it over a chair_. "Actaeon told me that he saw the two of you out for coffee and  _out for coffee_ , if you get my drift."

 _I could feel my face going bright red and I attempted to morph a little whiter. Remus didn't see anyway, he was laughing to himself as he busied himself with the kettle and tea cups._

"It's just... one of those things, you know."  _I tried to brush it off, not sure I wanted to talk about this to a man who I had had a_ thing  _for since I was about 11_.  _I sat at the kitchen table and put my feet up on the chair opposite._

"Mmhmm,"  _replied Remus as he passed me my tea._ "All this nonchalance from a girl who only two years ago was grilling me on why I had not informed her of my oh-so-important love-life. So, my hypocritical friend, do tell."  _He spread jam across a scone and took a bite, leaning forward in an overly dramatic 'I'm listening' kind of way and wiggled his eyebrows. I giggled nervously. A happy Remus was still a new thing to me, a strange and amusing thing._

"She's just a girl from school. There was some interest then, some more interest now. It seemed like a good idea to act on it."  _I shrugged and tried again to not make a deal of this, but I knew it was in vain._

"A good idea, really?"  _Remus grinned and sipped at his tea, letting me stew in my thoughts for a moment before changing his tone._ "It's nice to know that you're seeing someone, Actaeon agrees with me. I just always assumed that someone would be someone like Bill Weasley or that Cassius fellow from your Muggle Studies class that you used to write about incessantly."

"Cassius was a dream,"  _I had to admit_. "And if the chance had arisen, I would have. But with Lucia-"

"Oh, it's Lucia, is it?"

"-it's all so new and exciting. And something we could never have done at school."

 _Not for the first time, I wondered about Remus' own school days_.

"When you were at school..."  _I trailed off, not sure if this was within the realm of ask-ability._ "Did you ever have a boy...? I mean, was there anyone?"

 _A strange expression passed over his face, a halfway point between joyful reminiscence and anguish. Even with years of studying and copying, I doubt I could have mirrored the expression. He then smiled, clasping his tea cup in the story-telling fashion of his I had not seen in nearly a decade._

"There was Sirius."

 _And when Remus told me everything that he was willing to tell me, I couldn't quite believe that it had never clicked in my mind. All I wanted to do was to fix it all. The most striking thing was just how fixed it already was, though. At once I was proud of and worried for and loving towards and as many emotions as I could be._

 _And, as horrible and teenage as it sounds, my heart broke for him when I opened the Daily Prophet as I sat down to breakfast the next Friday. We didn't have tea and catch-up that Friday._


	3. Chapter 3

Remus,

How are you settling into Hogwarts? I'm sorry I didn't write sooner – work has been hectic, as you can imagine. I won't say much, but I'm glad that Dumbledore listened to us and offered you the job. You'll be much safer there. Harry too. Does he look very much like your friend James? Keep an eye on him. Knowing you, the two of you are already thick as thieves. I'll have a new teacher's pet to compete with, won't I?

I just winked at you. You can't see that on a page, so I'm telling you. Oh! This is just like when you sent me the letters on your tour, only now I'm not a child and we're both in work and there's a mass-murdering ex-friend of yours on the loose.

Stay safe and don't go looking for danger, no matter how much you might miss it.

Horrendous hugs and killer kisses,

Tonks

\--

Dora,

I'll thank you to stay out of my official files. I don't want to know how safe or not I am. I get enough pandering and funny looks from my colleagues as it is. Harry looks just like James, it's uncanny. I have moments when I forget that he isn't, moments when I forget that I'm now a teacher. I swear, the place hasn't changed a bit.

Could I bother you to go around to my place and water the plants? I've put the spare key in the envelope. Please do try not to lose it.

Best wishes,

Remus.

\--

REMUS,

WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT ACTAEON PACKED UP? THE BASTARD!

I just saw him in the lift at St Mungo's, making his delivery of Wolfsbane (which reminds me, is Snape brewing it okay for you?) and he was really cold towards me. I shook it off, just assuming he was intimidated by the large group of Aurors he was sharing the lift with.

I DID NOT EXPECT AN EMPTY HOUSE WHEN I WENT TO WATER THE PLANTS. Honestly, Remus. This is horrible.

Do you want me to hit him for you?

Also, it's Tonks. As in:

Love, Tonks.

\--

Tonks-as-in-Tonks,

That won't be necessary. I was the one to break it off. It didn't seem fair to him, to keep him hanging while I hide at Hogwarts.

R

\--

"R",

Fix It.

T

\--

 _I couldn't believe Sirius broke in again – I was still much too scared to tell anyone about the passageways though, or his animagus ability. The longer I left it, the more to blame I was going to be if anything further went awry, and I hated betraying Dumbledore's trust like that. I knew that I wasn't actively helping Sirius, but that was as good as._

 _It was unusually kind of Dumbledore to allow me a visitor considering the security at Hogwarts. Actaeon arrived in a bluster of mid-January snow, as most of the school emptied out on their way to Hogsmeade to fill their pockets with all manner of things to amuse and annoy teachers until Easter. His gaze shook me to the core and it took all my strength not to embrace him there in front of those milling around the gates. I jerked my head in the direction of the castle and we walked slowly along the drive and through the building, climbing stairs and travelling along corridors until we reached my rooms. I bolted the door._

 _Barely had the words "I'm so sorry" left my mouth before his lips crushed against my own, pushing any thoughts of worry or anger or betrayal from my mind. The whole world in that moment was the warm body against mine, the strong arms holding me up again when I wanted to fall, the hard evidence of mutual attraction. I kissed him back hungrily, grasping his shirt in my hands and pulling him closer, willing him to be nearer than was humanly possible. Clothes were discarded in abandon and as I re-learned every contour of his body, there was an intensity about it all that I had not experienced since our first nights in Istanbul._

 _But the moment was over all too quickly and I clung to my lover in desperation, as if I let him out of my arms he would leave me again. He kissed me and offered me more apologies than I ever deserved. There we lay together, on my four-poster bed._

" _Just like school, right?" chuckled Actaeon as I stroked his side._

" _So much better than school," I replied._

 _We could hear the excited cries of the students returning from Hogsmeade, his signal to leave. I helped him dress, kissing him as leisurely as our brief time allowed us, and then he helped me. I kissed him once last time before we left my rooms and I took him back to the gate. A handshake, a goodbye. It was so familiar, so safe, so..._

 _...wrong._

 _My Actaeon. To be destroyed by dogs and wolves._

 _How was I to know what was going to happen on that fateful Thursday? How was I to know that I was to regain a friend, regain a thousand feelings that I had thought lost forever?_

 _And worst of all, what I hadn't expected was the waiting game that I was forced to play. Waiting for Actaeon to believe me, waiting for him to understand, then for him to stop his dramatics. Waiting for him to come back. Waiting for it to stop hurting._

 _And now I'm waiting for you._

Remus Lupin was used to short notes. Short notes usually said things like "Don't bother coming back to work" and "Your application has been rejected, thank you" or they were attached to gifts from Nymphadora and said things like "Wear this, or you'll catch cold" and "These are especially tasty". Within a week he had received two very short and very out of the ordinary notes.

The first arrived via an official-looking owl and stated "He's back in the country. Be willing to open your home for him." Remus did not like this note, however it came from Dumbledore and that meant it was the sort that ought not to be ignored.

The second arrived by scrawny owl and destroyed what was left of his relationship with Actaeon Belby, the man who he had fallen in love with, the man who cared about and for him, the brother of the man whose potion had changed his life. This note said, in a script that he hadn't seen in nearly thirteen years, "I love you".

There had been a time when this note would not have been unwelcome, but now it seemed out of place and empty. And ridiculous and out of character. And Remus wondered what possessed the author to write it. And Actaeon had picked up his suitcase and left for the last time (maybe). And Remus picked up the nearest quill and scrawled back an "I hate you".

This hate that Remus felt, it wasn't malicious or hurtful. It was the hate of hurting and of betrayal and of why are you bothering me with your existence. He could still remember the absolute joy at seeing Pettigrew's name on the Map and the instantaneous feeling of triumph at knowing that Sirius  _had not_  betrayed him... but years of emotion cannot be disappeared by a single moment of relief, of friendship, of... undeniable love. The quick embrace had sent frizzles of energy through his whole body and it wasn't enough. But.

For Remus, the entire point of the past decade, the quest to lose the Black Dog, had come to a fruitless conclusion. It was beyond infuriating, beyond frustrating. He wanted to rage and to scream and,  _by Merlin_ , Sirius was going to suffer for this.

(And that was what Remus especially did not want to think about. He didn't want to think about the years upon years that Sirius had spent in Azkaban, innocent and suffering those horrors. He didn't want to think of how close that soul which he longed to reach out to again had been to being destroyed. He especially didn't want to think about how he would have felt had Sirius died and he had  _not_  known of his innocence. Would he have been glad? Would he have cried? Would he have even cared enough to give it more than a passing thought?)

(Yes, always.)

And Remus knew by now that he could never expect anything in his life to turn out at all as he had hoped or dreamed or wished or planned or guessed or wanted. It didn't surprise him when Dumbledore sent the word – via Patronus, which should have been clue enough – that the Order was to be reconvened. Shortly following this, another official-looking owl and another note, "Open your heart to him", arrived. Remus knew for sure that the headmaster was attempting to match-make.

(He'd guessed that the old man had been doing so since they were at school.)

(And he didn't even mind.)

And in much the same way that Remus had marked his new 'alone' life in 1981, in a calm of Ministry paperwork in an unremarkable setting, Sirius arrived on an entirely unremarkable day. It was not too hot, nor too cold. The sun was shining in its 10am sort of way, just starting to warm the front room. There was a pot of tea on the table and the newspaper was in the midway state between half-read and not yet finished, a tricky point around 21 down in the crossword.

And there was suddenly a Black Dog in the room. Not the one that had lived with Remus and the Tonks Family, nor the one that travelled to Europe and grew smaller in Turkey and never left the place. This was an actual dog. The muddy footprints suggested that it had come through from the porch while Remus had not been looking.

Remus, hands shaking more than a little, took a slow, deep breath and looked at the dog.

"Hello, Sirius."

Then there was a man where the dog had been. The muddy clothes suggested that it was the same creature. The man was different than he had been. Where there had been fullness, now was lean. Beautiful hair was matted and long and in desperate need of care.

(The whole of him was in desperate need of care.)

"Remus... I..."

Remus didn't say anything. He didn't dare to, because he knew that he could only say hurtful things or sad things or no things at all in this moment. No things at all seemed best.

He stood slowly from his chair and walked out of the room, waving his hand loosely in what he hoped was perceived as a beckon. Pausing at a linen cupboard, he passed a towel and comb and a razor and scissors and soap (and how did that all fit in there) to the man. He pointed down the hall and left the man to figure out the rest.

After an anxious half-hour of tapping his pen against the crossword and Not Concentrating on Anything, he was almost surprised when Sirius Black stepped into the room.

Not quite Sirius as he had been, but now he was Sirius as he was: clean and shaven and his hair a little shorter. And he would do.

(He would more than do.)

But Remus still did not move from his chair.

"How are we going to make this work?"

With a familiar bark-like laugh that reverberated to his centre, his old friend replied.

"Let's pretend it's 1981 again and we'll start afresh."

Remus stood up slowly and moved towards the man, inching closer and still afraid.

"Do you think we can really forget the past? Even if we want to?"

Sirius reached out and gently held Remus' hand.

"Oh, I'm sure I can. My family was always very good at conveniently forgetting what they didn't want to acknow –"

Remus stopped him abruptly with a kiss, chaste and careful. He didn't linger.

"This doesn't mean that you're forgiven."

"So, maybe not forget? Perhaps selectively ignore."

Remus nodded and Sirius pulled him into a tight clasp. He buried his nose in Remus' greying hair and whispered fiercely.

"I'm sorry that it hurt you, Remus. Not just the misunderstanding, but my stupidity. I didn't know what I had with you until the Dementors were drawing it away from me. All that played in my head was me telling you I wasn't interested, then me asking you to move in, then all those girls, then the jealously I felt about your boys, and I thought you were the traitor and that's why I needed to keep you close. But I kept you because I loved you."

Sirius pulled away slightly, with the manic glint in his eye that had made Remus melt inside since fifth year.

"You've waited your whole life to be told that I love you, Moony, and I've been quite backwards in coming forwards. I love you, I love you, and you'll never escape me now!"

Sirius dipped Remus unexpectedly and placed a theatrical kiss on his lips. Remus pulled himself back upright and smiled widely.

(The whole thing was utterly ridiculous.)

"You great fool. However did I get on without you?"

(And it still wasn't fixed.)

(Remus didn't care.)


End file.
